


but my heart's in atrophy

by princesszaf



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6782572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesszaf/pseuds/princesszaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If I could do it all over again, I –“</p><p>“You would. I know, Jaebum. I know.”</p><p>( an unfinished jjp fic from oct 2015. angst ahead. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	but my heart's in atrophy

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO i stumbled upon this while looking for my jinyoung approved doc (bc...even though i wrote the first chapter way back in jan 2015, i want to finish that fic gdi) and it really felt like i was reading someone else's fic lmao WHEN DID I WRITE THIS why is it so painful
> 
> but yeah it's unfinished!! and abandoned and who knows if i'll continue this but just thought i'd put it out there anyway c:
> 
> ( just a head's up!!! it's in 2nd person from jinyoung's pov~ )

This isn’t claustrophobia. It’s asphyxiation.

He’s got you in a car, numb, almost slave to his every request. He’s slipping into the driver’s seat and you’re not certain when he got his license, not even sure if Jaebum has one but the key slips in, the engine booms awake and you keep your eyes peeled on the glimmering streets of Seoul as he drives.

[ you’ve confessed, you’ve fucked it all up; you told your best friend you loved him, not like a brother but like the love in one of his songs, sickening and romantic and overwhelming. you’ve poured your heart out and he steps away, to think, he says. to clear his head, he says. he doesn’t have the capacity to handle this, not when his comeback’s next week, not when he’s overworked beyond repair and his manager’s yelling his ass off but when he leaves, he reassures you he cares. you don’t know if you believe that. ]

His name’s on the tip of your tongue but there’s something inhibiting it, snuffing your voice. You force yourself to turn and look at him but your eyes fall on the way he’s gripping the gearstick. Fingers tight, tense. Trembling.

You gulp and look away. A cool breeze blows in, sending a shudder through your bones. Buildings fly by as Jaebum presses down on the accelerator - there’s a scream running through your head but your expression remains impassive.

[ there’s a routine you’re slipping through - he arrives hours into the night with a thud on your door, bloodshot eyes and desperate lips. starved hands ripping at your clothes, mouth devouring every inch of your skin like religion, choked sob caught in his throat as you love him too, love the only person who’s ever meant anything to you. he slips away before you can wake up and returns weeks later and it’s vicious, it’s venomous. ]

The minutes tick by at an aching pace - you’re so fucking hyperaware - but you find your voice after what feels like hours. Parched, hoarse, aching. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?” He’s a busy man. This is a relevant question.

“I do,” his reply comes matter of factly but you can sense the unsteadiness lurking beneath, nerves as anxious as yours.

The seconds stretch like a canyon and you try, just once more. “You should slow down.”

You look at him now, look at the falter in the set of his jaw, the hesitance plaguing his expression. He’s wounded, confused - you are, too. “I should.” And he does, slowing down until the car’s drawing to a halt on the side of a deserted road.

You can hear his heart reverberate - it’s out of sync with yours. The heave of his jarred breathing, the rustle of fabric as he shifts in his seat. You catch whiff of his cologne now, musk and citrus, mixed with something so uniquely Jaebum.

You shift too, and there’s a catch in your throat. He’s looking at you.

[ no, is what you tell him. it comes too late to prevent any injuries but you’re bruised and bloodied and you can’t take this anymore. they tell you it’s pathetic, unhealthy. that you deserve better than unexplained 2am fucks and intermittent silence. you deserve so much more and you’re closing the door on him with the ghost of his caress haunting your sleepless nights. ]

“How’s work going?” You’re trying to keep your voice level, casual. Painfully polite.

“I miss us,” he replies barely a beat after and you can’t look at him now, not when you can feel your chest tightening, tears threatening. It’s acute, this flood of restrained emotion and you’re biting down onto your lip, fixing your gaze on a blinking bedroom light stretches away. “Jinyoung, please - look at me, please.” His words are strained, tortured.

“What do you miss?” and you sound pained too, words unsteady, tripping forth like blunt daggers. “Late night trysts, Jaebum, is that it? Kissing me when no one’s watching? Disappearing straight after we…” You’re heaving, palms tightening in fists, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t do this,” you admit, weary and barely inaudible. “I can’t do this,” you repeat, forcing the door open. You step out with nowhere to go but away. Your legs crumble traitorously and your back hits a wall for support, knees bending as you slip to the ground, down and down.

There’s a shoulder pressing yours a couple minutes after. You’ve got your face buried in your hands as Jaebum sits next to you and he lets you have this. It’s almost considerate.

Your cheeks aren’t very tear strained when the panic finally trickles away. Your heart doesn’t thud as rapidly, you’re monitoring your breathing - you find a sliver of courage to look at him and there’s no shaky vitriol in your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says but you’re shaking your head, exhaling a sigh. “I know you are.”

You lean into the wall, against his shoulder, knitting your fingers together as they wrap around your knees. It’s innocent and you find strange comfort in the familiarity of it. Before everything went to shit.

“If I could do it all over again, I –“

“You would. I know, Jaebum. I know.”

 

* * *

 

There’s a silent agreement that forbids either of you from speaking about _before_ but it sits heavy in the air as he shuffles through your flat, rummages through the refrigerator for an easy snack, comes to flop lazily in a chair facing yours.

He doesn’t come too close. You’re not sure if you’d appreciate that, either.

It’s been three weeks and four days since that night but neither of you has found the courage to discuss that, either. It’s almost laughable how miscommunication is so glaringly the crux of all your issues but you’re letting it engulf the room now too.

You don’t know if it’s pride or cowardice or a devastating fusion of both.

He reluctantly offers you a tangerine. You refuse and laugh at his exaggerated relief as he tears into another.

This could work.  

 

* * *

 

[ you find your way in bed with another man and he’s got tight arms wrapped around your torso, dreams running through his mind but you’re only picturing someone else against you, the memoirs of another’s fingertips pressing kisses on your cheek, praying in earnest for this yearning to fade but it discomfits you like a demon you can’t ever run from. ]

 

* * *

 

There’s alcohol in your system and you’re standing in the middle of your living room with shrieks scratching against the walls of your throat, angry tears heavy against your cheeks. Loud, hurting accusations hurl at Jaebum as he stands defenseless and there’s acid burning in your stomach, acid crawling up your chest, acid in your mouth.

“We should get you to bed.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” and you’re shrinking away until your back hits a lamp post and it goes tumbling to the ground, glass shattering. A dog barks raucously houses away and it’s too fucking late for this – you don’t even realize you’ve spent minutes sobbing into the backrest of your couch until arms find their way around you, strong and silent, taking you away and tucking you in until sleep finally comes to you, dreamless.

**Author's Note:**

> oh, the Pain™


End file.
